


um, yes. double espresso with your number, please.

by Icanwritesee



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: AU, F/M, Hudders love, I'm such a horrible person ugh, John's SO smooth, M/M, Mrs Hudson's a hero, how does one tag something like that, sorry for the angsty thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-03
Updated: 2015-12-03
Packaged: 2018-05-04 04:29:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5320499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Icanwritesee/pseuds/Icanwritesee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>handsome client stood there, stunned. it took him a moment to answer. and then he <i>smiled</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	um, yes. double espresso with your number, please.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Reiloves](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reiloves/gifts).



> I know I promised to write that one LAST week, but then life got in the way and it took me forever to complete the work. anyway, here it is at last. hope you enjoy.
> 
> also, come say hi on Tumblr, my name's there luckyonesjournal and I love talking :)

Sherlock Holmes was a legend these days. and he even wasn't porn star or anything other equally dull all the rest of humanity believed to be legendary. no. he worked at little coffeeshop at Baker Street, Speedy's. his job was to serve hot beverages. nothing special; most of the students work like that on a daily basis to provide themselves. not an interesting story there. but the way he did it was unimaginable, and brought lots of customers, so Mrs Hudson had to overlook Sherlock's usual not-very-good-with-people demeanour. and his mood swings.

Sherlock loved her like she was his mother. and, in a way, she was. he never understood why exactly Mrs Hudson was so nice, though. of course, she was nice to everyone, she had that kind of sweet personality that _needed_ to care for others in order to function properly. she also understood him like no one else ever could.

his blackest, heroin-fuelled day, would've ended tragically if he didn't stumble into her little cafe in search of some place to stay. that was the day Victor left him, spitting about how he didn't want to have anything in common with a 'fucking freak' into his general direction, like he wasn't there. so Sherlock wanted to make sure no one would have to have anything in common with a freak like him, and took more than enough heroin to make his heart stop beating. only, he didn't predict the dizziness it would cause. or how much strength it would take to actually move limbs that felt like millstones attached to his thin body. while he stubbornly dragged himself home because he didn't want to die in some smelling alley, he lost his balance and fell when he couldn't feel any wall under his palm. unable to move, he just lied there after literally stumbling through the open door - as it turned out, it was some cafe, and he caused a bit of a fuss around himself. sudden noise startled little old lady working behind the counter, so she came running to check what actually happened. imagine her surprise when she found bony teenager with unhealthy pale face and empty, full of pain eyes and his chest almost not moving lying on her threshold. how could she not help him?  
by the time the ambulance came, Sherlock has already lost his consciousness two times, but he was never alone on the way to the hospital and after that because _someone_ had to look after that soul. so she did. 

*

Sherlock personally hated weekends because weekends seemed to be the only days in the week when all the people suddenly had the unstoppable craving for any form of caffeine.  
\- good morning, sir. would you like your espresso to be doubled? - asked Sherlock in his almost-normal customer-mode tone of voice. the man was handsome, he had to admit.  
\- sorry, what? - young blonde man with tired face was a look of confusion. and tiredness. but mostly confusion. - um... I actually wanted latte...  
\- seeing as you're a med student working two part-time jobs coupled with rugby scholarship to make some living out of, currently on his way to one of the part-time jobs I mentioned, prrrrobably at the uni library because of the time of the day, therefore in need to stay awake for a bit more time than you're normally used to, I would highly recommend you to take double espresso - he threw all of that in one, incredibly long sentence, pausing only to take a breath.  
handsome client stood there, stunned. it took him a moment to answer. and then he _smiled_.  
\- that was... brilliant - he said in the end. curious. it looked like he was awestruck, not angry. he wasn't spitting some mean words Sherlock got used to hear every now and then. he just stood in his place, smiling and looking at him like he was some sort of _miracle_. - absolutely... amazing.  
Sherlock cocked his head, regarding him warily.  
\- you... - he cleared his throat, not wanting to sound just a tad _too eager_. - you think so?  
\- 'course I do. bloody amazing.  
and then he fucking smiled, and that smile was even more beautiful than the previous one; Sherlock felt his heart clenching along with his stomach doing some kind of somersault when he saw the blond smiling like that. it was like the sun decided to shine on that particular place on Earth because suddenly, Sherlock felt warmth all over his body. the corners of the man's eyes crinkled and Sherlock could swear that the expression made him look so much younger with all that boyish charm and white teeth. his eyes - oceans of colours and emotions - sparkled. like he was perfectly content. happy, even. it was lovely.  
\- not what people usually say - Sherlock muttered in wonder, fully intending to talk to himself, but client caught his words:  
\- what do they usually say?  
\- "piss off".  
he didn't say anything funny, he thought. but, still. completely worth it because it made the man actually laugh. _he_ made him laugh, and it wasn't condescending. his eyes sent even more sparks.  
\- sorry, would you mind moving? - some bloke nervously poked his arm. - some of us are in hurry, you know. to work.  
\- oh, yes! sorry! - client seemed to come back to himself. - um... yeah. I'd give a shot to the double espresso you suggested, then. 

*

at some point Sherlock found out his name - John Watson. _John Watson_. good, solid name that fit perfectly to his personality, but didn't show his beauty or kindness, or something that was just him. unassuming, but charming. not common, but with a power to blend in. and he seemed to come to the cafe every day at various times, ordering Sherlock's double espresso. which wasn't very original because most clients were loyal to their beverages choice. not that, then. what he didn't understand, was why John always chose to be attended by Sherlock, and always having just enough time for a quick chat in between paying and brushing fingers while passing the paper cup, always smiling brightly like double espresso was some indescribable pleasure that highlighted his day.  
Molly started calling John his admirer because he refused to move even if she was relatively free to serve him his coffee. what he _also_ couldn't comprehend, was how quickly John Watson has wormed his way into Sherlock days. how happily he would wait _for hours_ for him to come, standing with his spine straight as ramrod. how much he would appreciate all those little 'hello's or 'how's your day's or 'you're saving my life right now's. or when he laughed; especially when he laughed.  
\- you know, you should ask him out some day - suggested Mrs Hudson after witnessing one of their meetings.  
\- thought you had a break, Mrs H. - he snapped, but without much heat. she has had her fair share of his lovely mood swings.  
\- I just have one, but stop avoiding the topic, Sherlock! - she poked his ribs which made him wrinkle his nose. - you like him!  
\- I don't _like_ him!  
there was her usual 'you're-so-clueless-honey' glance that caused a bit too much discomfort. he deflated, letting her awkwardly hug him as much as she could with their height difference.  
\- you like him, sunshine - she whispered softly. -and he likes you.very much, if I had anything to say.  
\- think so? - he muttered, surrounded by her safe warmth.  
\- I do, love. you're exceptional, how could he not like you? he would be stupid not to see that, and he's not stupid, is he?  
he curled his lips in a shy smile. Mrs Hudson was better than his mother.  
\- would you do your old landlady a tremendous pleasure and ask that wonderful boy out?  
he nodded, deciding to do that next time he sees John.

*

he checked his breath for the fifth time, knowing that John would be here in approximately 5 minutes, coming to get a cuppa before his afternoon classes begin. Sherlock braced himself when he heard the chiming of a bell hunged up above the door; and, here he was looking too beautiful to even be real.  
\- hello, Sherlock - he beamed at him. - you okay? look like someone messed up your day or something...  
\- perfectly okay, John - he answered too quickly to be actually okay. John only raised one of his light eyebrows at that, but didn't comment. - the usual for you?  
\- yeah, sure... but I was thinking... are you free tonight?  
_that_ effectively paused his movements.  
\- um... I think I am, yes. why?  
\- great! - John beamed once more at him. seriously. how could he refuse him anything when he smiled like that?  
\- um...  
\- what would you say to dinner?  
\- oh...  
\- so? what d'you say? - John looked him up and down and then smiled that special Sherlock smile. _he fucking knows what he was doing. that bastard._  
he leaned a bit on the counter, delicately caressing his beautiful lips, effectively cutting Sherlock's brain off.  
the brunette barista awkwardly cleared his throat.  
\- um... yes. I'm free at six.  
\- brilliant! I'll see you at six, then!  
Sherlock stared after him for what seemed like eternity, trying to answer his own question about what just happened.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading, see you next time <3


End file.
